Lifting the Veil
by Ithnan
Summary: Darkness can catch the most suspecting person of guard. Rip apart an entire existence, without the slightest knowledge. Light will always shine from even the most insignificant person, even in a world consumed by enforced darkness. Apocalyptic story
1. Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own DMC, nor any of the characters that belong to it.**

* * *

**Chapter One: Darkness**

_"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,_

_Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt._

_It lies behind the stars and under hills,_

_And empty holes it fills._

_It comes first and follows after,_

_Ends life, and kills laughter." _(_The Hobbit, _J.R.R. Tolkien)

* * *

Impossibly large, with a stature that was untouchable, the frowning statue stood almost naturally against the ancient wooded backdrop, while the night stars shone beautifully above its sinister existence. For that was exactly what it was.

Surrounding this godlike creature was a mass of loyal servants that feared this thing more that death, for that they bowed their heads into the dirt covered ground where their wavering eyes could not be seen. Servitude was the only foreseeable solution for these lesser creatures with a mental capability that only knew that survival was the ultimate goal, and that pain should be avoided before death.

Most stood silently, while the odd one, younger ones, quivered slightly, ruffling up browned leaves on the ground and crunching them so loud that it almost brought the whole forest light with this simple sound. Their master had demanded silence, and time. These lowly creatures could not understand why, for their instinct where telling them to join their demon brethren in the slaughter that was happening all around.

However, their presence was required there, and so they bound their bloodlust in chains and tied themselves down with nothing but willpower. Should any of them make but move to run off, they would be subjected to the wrath of a god.

God was no the describing worth for this frozen being, not was frozen. Despite being carved into this imposing statue of what appeared to be an elderly man that bore all the traces of youth, behind the cold stone figure was once of the most feared demons alive.

Mundus.

Mundus, the Prince of Darkness, The Devil King, call him what you like while kneeling in the mud and begging for your life. Before this moment, he himself had never felt worthy of such a name. After a shameful defeat at the hands of that bastard hybrid, how could he hold such titles with pride? It was impossible, he had to earn back his worth, go back to his formed self. No longer would he cower in the depths of Hell licking his wound like an injured dog.

He had it now. What was deemed as impossible for so long by his kin, had now been achieved. He had demonstrated to all his demons that there was no curse of Sparda should they surge their way through into the human realm, that the once great Dark Knight was nothing but ashes, his power and status long gone with him, and soon, mankind.

There he had waited, patiently for the resistance that deep within him, he had expected. For the suspicion of that _man_ to have drawn him to this spot to foil his plans, for the second time. Yet he did come. No one came to stop him.

It was exactly how he had wanted it to pass. Unexpectedly.

He had achieved his goal in utter secrecy. He had trusted the right demon lords, he had made all the right moves, overcome all the blocks. He knew who to keep close, and who to cast an eye of doubt over. Those that would try to take over from him, those that would bow down before him, those whom needed his respect. Mudus was certain that he could win.

Despite how confirmed it was, the flickering flame of doubt still lingered inside of him.

Uncertain of why, Mundus stood where he was, casting his eyes over the plains of fire and screams, none of which brought the expected satisfaction. He had begun to doubt his goal, and achievement. Had he made a mistake?

Impossible, not a second time. He had thought this over for years, evaluated his mistakes the previous time. Sought out new strategies, ones that did not involve the spawn of Sparda, lessening the chances of interference.

Yet the doubt remained. It was sickening to him.

He who had earned back his title after the last defeat, gone against all odds and struck a blow to all those demons that looked down on him for his defeat. He had rose above all of them, and now watched as a darkness more ancient that the forest itself slowly crept over this world that had been blessed with light.

Just as the thought formed itself in his mind, Mundus felt it.

Far away to the east. To far for his eyes or span of control to have reached yet, but he felt it.

It was a painfully pure feeling that was emitted from it, like a globule if light forcefully shining out one last time before quickly dying out to fall to the earth. This brightness remained, powerful and resilient to the elements of the earth.

Taunting him.

Dancing before his eyes with blinding brightness.

Sickening him more than anything he had ever felt before.

An uncontrollable temptation rose within him to crush it. To see it cry and scream out as he extinguished that light from this doomed world. He would not fail another time, and no little star was going to stop him either.

The madness that curdled itself within this creature shut him away from the reality of both realms. Clouding his vision to the familiarity of this distant light.

* * *

In a sensation that could be described as neither falling of floating, she moved within a black oblivion that shut off all senses. She could neither see, hear, smell, or feel her surroundings.

She stuck her tongue out to see if it could be tasted.

It was a confusing sensation, for sensation was the only word that could fully describe it, she didn't feel like death had taken hold of her. Or she was simply denying it wholeheartedly. She reached for her hair, trying to feel where it was. She found it naturally, falling down her back. But why? She could not feel the force of gravity pulling her down to the earth. She could not feel her feel against a comforting ground.

This place, or state of mind made little sense to her, and while her mind rapidly struggled to recall a single memory that brought her to this place, nothing changed. She remained floating and falling at the same time.

The silence was frightful, freezing her right to the core. The block on her senses began to make her panic. She called out for help, but either she could not speak or not hear. Her body told her that she was not the right way up, the force against her stomach cried to her, the rushing of her head called to her. Yet her hair remained flat against her back.

_Please help them. _It whispered in the darkness, a voice that sounded strained and awfully loud to her death ears. Despite the masculine depth to the voice, she could not help but mistake it for her own voice. It felt like an age since she had heard her own voice, she could not distinguish the difference. So she corrected it. _Please help me._

No response came, so she knew that it was her own voice. Her mind conjuring up a form of reassurance with a second voice. She knew enough to know that she shouldn't give into it, she needed to focus on her own voice.

_I can help you, but I need you to help them. My sons. _

She ignored it. It was certainly her mind, dwindling its own route into insanity. She knew what darkness could do to a person. She had been here for some time, it was no surprise that it was happening to her. Her mind would begin to tick her into seeing shadows where there are none, frighten her into believing that there is help, only to harshly crush that hope with reality.

Since she could not see, this voice was her devil in the dark. Giving her the false hope that she could be helped.

_When will it end?_

It was her own voice that resonated in the darkness of her mind. Asking a question from deep within her. It had not been her intention to ask it, she was certain that she would be able to resist the temptation of hope.

_When you agree._

That masculine voice was distinguishably different from her own, even she could notice that, but the fear of betrayal on her own mentality make her real back.

_Please help._

There was a change that time, one that almost had her thinking that she had been the one to talk, but the certainty that she knew she hadn't remained. This voice was sweetly feminine. With a sense of familiarity that warmed her core after the freezing fright that came with the more masculine one. The voice held the care of nurturing as it pleaded for her help.

She could feel herself give into this voice, reaching out for the warmth that felt so real.

_Your decision matters not, your fate has been decided._

The coldness returned with that harsh male voice, she mentally recoiled in fright and then discovered what it truly meant to be falling into endlessness.

* * *

**AN: If any of you are reading my other story, please don't hate me. All of them will be finished.**_  
_


	2. Finding

**Disclaimer: I do not own DMC, nor any of the characters that belong to it.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Finding**

_When I walk out, I am a great event,_

_I do not have to think, or even rehearse._

_What happened in me will happen without attention._

_The pheasant stands still on the hill;_

_He is arranging his brown feathers._

_I cannot help smiling at what I is I know._

_Leaves and petals attend me. I am ready. _(_Three Women, _Sylvia Plath)

* * *

She had never been one for the cold. It was always keen to wake her in the middle of the night during the winter times when her covers had slipped off her shoulder, or exposed her back, bringing her to the brink of consciousness hours before she was ready. Although insistent hands against her shoulders where always just as effective.

Sleep encrusted eyes woke with difficulty, opening for what seemed like the first time to the bright outside. A few blinks and she could see something aside from the blinding white, and what she did see wasn't exactly pleasant.

Red faced, blotched with what seemed like a slight stubble of an early pubescent beard, with a mop of brownish and red hair right within the closeness of her face. Groaning in general, her face made something that resembled a smile to the other face peering closely at her like some science experiment.

He was too close. Without telling him so, with a lackadaisical hand she pushed him out of her personal space and began to clumsily pull herself up, feeling overly uncomfortable laying down with a stranger as her spectator.

"I'm so glad tha'cha woke. I thought that I might hav'ta carry you!" he spoke gleefully, voice heavily accented with the colloquial dialect, bearing a face that was not welcome in the morning. The boy proceeded to stand up.

She seriously hoped that he wasn't making a subtle reference to her weight there. If so he was not being subtle. Grunting in general acceptance, she wandered what his rush was. It was never this difficult for her to wake up. She felt like she was waking up after a night drinking with friends, minus the hangover. She did not like being this slouchy, which was usually the reason she vowed off alcohol.

"Doesn't matter now, we hav'ta go. Ya hav'te get up quick." He rushed, his face becoming gravely serious.

The change in emotion remotely concerned her, he seemed to be only a few years younger than herself. Way too young to be this serious. What was he, 15? 16? From the fact that he was wearing worn out jeans that hung below his waistline exposing underwear that she had no desire to see, she was guessing within that age range.

"Why?" she grumbled to him, her face with a morning attitude that suggested that he wasn't going to rush her, emergency or none. Clearly not one to pick up on the most subtle of hints. He continued with the same tone. "The demons a'comin!" he exclaimed.

Her jaw went slack while she thought.

After giving him a long blank look that was mostly due to the sleepiness and not because of what he said, she gave an affirming nod. "Ah." She breathed out, sounding like she was rehearing for a carbonated drink advert rather than agreeing.

"Fine, wha'ever lady. You gotta to get ou'ta here fast, and I ain' waitin' long!" he remained standing leaving the slightly confused 'lady' on the ground. When his words did reach the more understanding part of her brains, she retaliated.

"Don't call me a lady." she grunted at him. "I'm not that old" she grumbled to herself. "Would you help me up?" he gave him her hand so he could pull her up.

The slushiness almost drained out of her, she allowed herself to relax and take in the surroundings. She appeared to be in a village of some kind. With modest houses spread out over a large area, and older ones making an odd appearance around.

_He's right, you need to go, it is dangerous. But not with him._

In an instant she no longer felt any form of tiredness as soon as she heard that unwelcomed voice was in her head. This voice continued inside the confides of her head, not heading to the raging emotions that where clashing in her head the moment to voice decided to make is presence known.

_You must not leave with him._

She stood there frozen in her stop, staring lifelessly at the young boy, trying to makes sense of it. She recalled exactly the details of the dreamlike darkness not too long ago. She recalled the two polar opposite voices. Yet, why was this voice here to haunt her now?

The dreamily fogginess that she had clearly just woken her should have stayed in the recess of her mind. Although however much she might drink, she very much knew that it wasn't this chilly back home.

_Why? _

She asked lifelessly in her own mind, knowing that she was now giving into insanity by replying.

_You have to help. It is the only way._

She swallowed, knowing that this was crazy, even for her. Meanwhile the young adolescent boy was trying to knock her out of the trance she had willingly pulled herself into.

_What do I have to do?_

"Did'ya hit your head or somethin'?" he asked, shouting her out of her mind.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"I asked if ya hit ye' head." he repeated for her

"I don't think so." She pondered with confusion. It was a good question since she didn't know the answer.

"Then stop goin al' spacey on me. We gotta go!" then took hold of her hand and began to pull her in one direction. Once she was facing it she saw not too far ahead what he wanted to take her towards.

A large gathering of people in a plaza like area with a fountain and surrounding buildings that appeared to be shops, all crowding around what appeared to be army like transport vehicles. The civilian people where swarming to get on, visible even from a distance to be pushing and shoving others aside.

As the two of them advanced towards the crowd, fleeting feeling of fear gathered in her chest as the thought of going. Confused as she was, she didn't want to stray far from where she was. Everything looked too rural and foreign for her. She knew her country well enough, and it did not have this type of countryside.

She pulled at the grip on her wrist, stopping the rushing adolescence. "Wait." She told him. Gathering her thoughts, "Just wait."

"There is no time!" he yelled at her, his appalling grammar suddenly having made a turn for the better.

She ignored his cries, she could see the fear in him, and whatever was pulling him towards this truck she didn't want to have to face alone, but at the same time, couldn't think of staying far away from this place.

There was always another option.

"Do you think you'd have to be insane to listen to the voice inside you head?" she asked him.

The boy calmed instantly as the rare question. Giving her a look that answered more than words could. "Yea" he said obviously with a nod of his head and wide eyes.

"I was beginning to suspect it." She mumbled dejectedly.

With that, she called out to the voice in her head. Asking for guidance.

_That way._

It responded after she span around, and she ran as instructed. Ignoring the cried of the young boy telling her hopelessly not to go that way.

* * *

It was such a thrilling thing sometimes, danger. Being told that she was running straight at a horde of demons didn't deter her. Mostly due to her firm disbelief in demons. But the voice apparently kept her from harm's way. Telling her when to make a dive for a small little ditch, make a sudden left at that tree, then a right. Or sometimes that she had to go backwards to make a different turn.

The forest was large, and she had not a clue what she was doing by allowing her navigator to be the voice in her head, when she was sure that sometimes it was her own voice could become intertwined with it. That saying, what if the voice in her head was her own to begin with?

It was genuinely hard to distinguish between the two, so she had to keep a hold of her mind and try not to think about nothing. Which was difficult, since she was thinking about thinking about nothing. All such confusing concepts to her.

The voice told her to jump over a log, which she did. But then again, it could have been her own voice that told her to do it, since she had seen the log.

The sky indicated that it might have been early morning, and the cold was more than enough indication. She wondered why it was so cold. And why she was in such a temperate area. She firmly recalled that the reason she was in denim shorts and sandals was because it was summer and she was at the beach.

Luckily she also recalled that it had been morning not too long ago at the beach, and so she was wearing a pretty pale blue sweater. Not that it did much to keep the almost winterish morning cold off of her.

Her lungs burned with the cold air, yet she remained running, with difficulty, especially after a few stubs on her exposed toes. Her body had warmed up considerably since she had started running, and she was extremely glad that she had not put on her bikini, then she would have had some trouble doing this.

Another log came, and she almost expertly jumped over it. It wasn't a perfect landing, and her feet where beginning to hurt from the inappropriate running footwear, and clothing.

_Stop!_

The voice called to her urgently, and she slammed herself to rapid break, holding onto a tree as aid. Her feet slid to a stop and dried brown leaved flew up into the air.

_Get down, and don't move._

Following the orders of her puppeteer, she crouched down low her body hidden by the foliage and shrubbery of the forest.

Quietness resumed inside the ancient woods and not even the birds could be seen or heard.

Swallowing her tremors silently, she intently listened for any sounds.

It wasn't the sound that alerted her to the presence of another creature, but the vibrations in the earth. The heavy footstep of something shot through the ground forcefully, making even her bounce slightly. Her mind was unwontedly reminded her of a film about dinosaurs that scared her when she was younger.

The footsteps came closer, and she could even begin to hear the wet snorts of the breathing animal.

It sounded like no animal she knew off, and the size of it must have been considerate if it could cause such impact with its footsteps.

She closed her eyes in attempt to remain calm as she knew that, whatever this creature was, passed right by the tree that she still help onto.

_Keep calm. It won't find you if you remain calm and silent._

The voice helped, the alluring feminine voice was calming to her chilled bones, and let her sink into the tree. An almost familiar feature of the voice allowed her to maintain the fear at bay, as it continued to make her presence as miniscule as possible.

The creature passed, and she felt and heard it move into the distance, she couldn't even sign in relief, he body shook too much as she found herself back on her feet.

_Keep going, it is not far now._

She could no longer run, any more than she could look back to see what that thing was. She preferred to remain ignorant to that form of danger.

_And what exactly is it that I will find?_

She asked suspiciously, knowing that the voices guidance had helped her greatly till now, but still not quite ready to trust it.

_You will see._

In any other occasion, she would have definitely turned back and left. That was too little for her to go on, and she just shouldn't be able to muster up the courage to continue. And yet she did continue, as if this voice had some form of power over her bodies' movements.

No, it was deeper that than. This voice had control over her mind to some extent, subtly dulling her instinctive safety that was ingrained inside of her since birth, allowing her to follow this voice blindly.

She walked now, and as she did, she began to feel the dull throbbing in her feet begin to form from her earlier running. She wasn't all too sure why she had run, but inside of her she had felt a worried emotion that urged her forwards at a speed.

The voice was beginning to affect her. She was noticing it, she wasn't all too sure if there was even a voice. Where their emotions mixing, their thoughts?

For now she would see where the voice lead her, if it turned out nowhere, then she would know for certain. It was nothing.

It wasn't long, just as the voice had said. Soon the voice had her pushing aside some foliage to enter a clearing of some sort that could have one been described as a meadow.

What once must have been lush with grass and flowers was now a dead brown crusted mess on the ground.

Although the imposing arch-like structure was intricately engraved with many words and symbol that where foreign to her. Make of stone, she wondered curiously where on earth they found such a large stone to be able to create such a thing.

Was it part of a cathedral? Now simply left for ruins? Randomly placed in the middle of the wood? She thought again, that was unlikely.

_Is this what you wanted me here for?_

There was definitely something here, whether it was what the voice had led her to, she did not know yet, for the voice had yet to reply.

"Fine. Don't reply." She mumbled to herself, the sudden sound entering the clearing like a gunshot, it might have even echoed. The silence was unsettling to her as she advanced inwards.

Silence resumed on the meadow as she approached the large arch, getting a closer look at the inscribing on it. It appeared to be a mixture of writing and glyphs of some ancient culture. None that she recognised.

The flawless carving of the stone was so meticulous, that her hand was practically drawn to the stone, wanting to feel its smooth surface.

He hand stroked along the grey stone, it was warm, and throbbing. Like it was alive. The strange feeling had her eyes dancing all over the structure. It was such a large construction, and appeared to make entirely form one stone.

She shook her head at the unimaginable feat it was to create such a thing. Her head puzzled over why it was even done.

_Get out of the way!_

The alarmed voice cried to her, and its words moved her body without any command on her part.

She jumped to the side, landing on the stone supporting leg of the arch, hurting her side numbly. Yet the voice didn't let her stop there.

_Get back!_

So she did, again without any control over herself. Her body rolled backwards, her loose hair picking up leaves and dirt along with the movement.

Quickly she found herself on her feet, the hair and leaved blocking her view quickly pushed aside to open up the view ahead.

There stood whatever had panicked the voice so much.

Her eyes softened at the sight, as she stared at the pale body of the half naked man. Dressed only in a faded pair of torn trousers. From a distance they where unmistakeably leather, but what the colour could have been when they were bought was indistinguishable with the obvious use, wear and tear.

The lean but sturdy upper body of this man was bloodily scratched, yet even from their distance held no sighs of scaring. Swallowing forcefully, she tried to get a look at his face, that was shrouded by a dirty pale long bundle of knotted hair that, much like the trousers, could not be distinguished for its original colour.

With a slight lifting of the head, she was granted a glint of his face from a small parting of matted hair, the drawing feature was the glinting eyes that burned red.

At that moment, she became acutely aware of the stone like knife in his hand.

"Shh.. shit." She stuttered out with cold and fright.

_Don't panic!_

The voice urged her, but it was much too late for even the voice's effect.

She bolted, not thinking that her sudden movement would urge its own.

The voice whispered words of comfort into her mind, telling her what to do, how to do it. Words that she didn't know if they had been processed in her mind or not. The woman's voice was mentioning names and phrases. She really hoped that the more rational part of her brain was getting this stuff for the rest of her painfully ran.

Her increasingly numbing legs seemed to be swept off from beneath her, and she tumbled quickly to the ground, making painful impact on her already bruised side. The voice gained quick access into her suddenly blanked mind and made her roll over onto her back, in time to face the face of her killer.

The impacting moment never came as time and reality seemed to split over inside of her head, when a voice that sounded much like her own, but suspiciously intertwined with the one in her head spoke out with words that had been told to her not moments ago.

"Vergil, son of Sparda. I Layla take your name, and bind you to my will!"

Then everything froze.


	3. Deal with the Devil

**Disclaimer: I do not own DMC, nor any of the characters that belong to it.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Deal with the Devil**

_"You got me on my knees Layla._

_Begging darling please Layla._

_Darling wont you ease my lonely night._

_Layla" _(_Layla, _Eric Clapham)

* * *

It had frozen, well, he had frozen to be more specific. However, Layla was just as frozen, eyes fixed on the stone carved knife that was only centimetres away from having made stabbing impact with her right cheek.

That would have undoubtedly been painful, yet she managed to retain some cool inside of her. The voice's rapid response and even faster exit had left her mind and body in a complete state of calm.

A little frigid at having a half naked knife wielding madman on top of her, but none the less very relaxed.

Swallowing again and wetting her lips, Layla looked up into blue watery eyes that appeared to also have relaxed just the tiniest bit, no longer filled with what could only be described as reddened bloodlust and madness. Then to form quickly turned into one of unmasked rage.

The knife was lifted high above his head and terror filled Layla again, making her helplessly cry out for him to "Stop!"

Ineffective as it was. There was a brief moment when this man's movements halted, then continued on its vengeful path.

Again, for the second time within a minute, Layla felt the voice from her mind filter itself out into the open, using her as the medium. "Vergil, stop!"

He did.

Eyes wide as the knife this time had actually pieced her skin the tiniest bit, she watched this man freeze up completely, his eyes fixed on her in hatred. While he was stationary, she could feel the anger falling from him in waves, and his slight shaking of the hand with his knife tremor the slightest bit in rage.

Not feeling safe where she was, Layla crawled her way out from beneath the man, and moved to give the two of them some distance apart. Feeling it was the best move to take at that moment.

Even with her gone from beneath him, he remained in the same position looking almost like a statue with his pale white skin giving the impression of a marble freeze.

Breathing deeply at all that had pass, Layla felt a little dizzy, from adrenalin rush and having the voice force its way into the depths of her mind twice within seconds. She shook slightly with various emotions that where whirling up within her. Rubbing her arms, she tried to generate warmth as she just sat there watching him.

"Do you… have any idea… what you have done!" words grounded out form the frozen man, frightening Layla with the smooth coldness of his angered tone.

"No" speaking breathlessly "not really." She replied honestly, having no idea to what had just passed.

The words that been said from her own mouth swirled in her mind in a mixture. None of which making any sense. The voice in her mind had annoyingly vanished at the most inconvenient of time, as she could no longer feel the pleasant warmth and comfort that it brought with its presence, nor was it replying to her.

"I will kill you for this." He growled out. "To take my name!" he shouted, the emotion seeming strange when he was in such a frozen position. Layla felt the life leave her when his head grindingly turned to face her, long hair covering it his face in dirty dreads and strands. "I will not obey your command!" he declared.

"O" she mumbled lifelessly, too stunned to response with any form of equal passion to his declaration. "That's ok." She quickly stated. "I don't think I was going to give you any to begin with…" she spoke quickly, trying to cover up her nervousness that retuned with his cold glare.

The man snorted, his face returning to his former position. Sensing the air of disbelief coming from him Layla felt somewhat insulted. "I wasn't going to make you do anything. You were going to…" the word got chocked up in her throat with the memory.

"Kill you?" he taunted.

"Yes" she snarled, then calmed form her outburst. She decided she was going to be civilised with this, even if she was the only one. "We can deal with this reasonably." The desire to do so lied deep in the unusual adoring familiarity that she felt from deep within.

"Do go on." His tone sarcastic.

"Well, first you are not going to kill me. Ok? If we can get past that, then I think we can negotiate." Layla stated as she began to get to her feet. "It's not like you should have anything against me. So, just agree that you are not going to kill me." It seemed so simple in her mind, that it could have been flawless.

"It would be better if you just ordered me to do it. You won't end up with a knife in your heart that way." The cold image sending shivers down Layla's spine.

"You already said that you are not going to obey my orders." she took a well needed breath, feeling her knees shake slightly. It was only him and her, and he wasn't even looking at her, yet she felt the cold nervousness sweep over her. "So it would be better if we came to some agreement!"

"I technically have no choice but to obey you."

"But I don't want to do that to you!" she cried, fiercely against the idea of making him do something against his will. Although at this rate, she might be forced to order him to do it. _What was it I said before? Vergil, stop? I guess I need to say his name._

She recalled it now, _Vergil, son of Sparda…_ _must be his name._ _I took him name, and bound it to my will…. Ouch._ The flamed of shame came within her, and the shock as being able to do such a thing was unbelievable. Although she remained sceptical, not certain that it worked.

"Look, I'm sorry that I took your name!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "It was just something that I had no control over." She was not going to blame the voice in her head, not a good excuse. "Well, It was more of a spur of the moment thing. I honestly had no idea of what it would mean for you."

Vergil, who she felt safe to now refer to as, remained quiet.

"Look" she hesitated before using his name. "Vergil, I'm sorry." Her voice sincere, feeling that using his name would reach out to him further. It was an unusual name for such era, but she still spoke his name with the softness that it would be said in its native language.

She got no response. Not that she had been expecting one, she didn't think that it was going to all fine after that. She had taken the man's name! She had no idea what exactly that meant, but she was getting the impression that it also mean the loss of free will.

She was torn for what to do. Her one decision could mean her death, but could also show that she was true to her words. She was just going to have to take the risk, against the better judgement that was telling her to leave and never look back.

"Vergil" she began, the name now coming out with ease "you can… move again?" How terrible she had made that sound in the end.

Her words hadn't finished when the man was already making his way towards her, slowly, knife still in hand. "I'm really sorry." She whispered, before her eyes became determined and focused on him, it was clear what decision he had made. "Vergil, son of Sparda. You will not kill me" she demanded loudly, her voice holding authority.

Then he stopped, while Layla continued. "I will give back your back your name." Once she figured out how. "I promise you that, but first you are not going to kill me. Second" she felt like on a bit of a roll here "I will never order you to do anything against your will, and you know, if I do (accidentally!) you can just tell me. And well, umm…. We could just sort it out. Thirdly! You have to help me find a way home." Her eyes where promising and full of unexpected improvisation. "Do we have a deal… or do you want to add anything?"

Vergil stayed where he was, maybe less than a meter way from her, observing her with a slight tilt in his head and narrow eyes. Her straightened shoulders and determined look that wavered during her speech showed her expectation that he would turn her down and just attack her. He was more than capable of harming her and not killing.

Yet, surrounded her was calming aura that was distantly familiar. One that had Vergil almost believing her promise not to take advantage of the newly formed bond between master and servant. Still the anger was bubbling up from within him, just when he had gained his freedom, albeit somewhat maddened before the bond was made, he was tied down again to servitude. It angered him, destroyed what little remaining pride he had left in himself.

Unwittingly, he took a step towards the calm that lulled the anger slightly. Only once had he felt it before, in distant memories that where too scrambled to recall.

"With the bond we have now" he spoke as his slow paces began to circle around her "I would do, or be anything for you. A slave" the words came out crunched, "servant, friend…" he looked deeply into her green eyes, "a lover." he told her with a slight glint in his eyes that almost failed with the desire to break her neck. "All you would have to do is command me." His voice hushed the slightest.

"servant…friend… lover…." She repeated, her curious eyes not leaving his. Then her eyes turned away, confusion dusting over her brows. "People… do that?" she questioned, eyes looking to him for an answer.

"I… hear that they do…" he wasn't going to mention that he had made it up.

"That is just…..sad" she stated bluntly, with a quiet shake of her head, "not to mention desperate." She said while looking at him blankly. "No…." must have been one of the longest 'no's' he had ever head in his life, as if he had said something completely stupid. "I'm fine making my own friends and lovers." Giving him a wide teeth showing smile that looked ridiculous in Vergil's opinion.

He stayed looking at her, her face still wanting an answer to her suggestion. The burning desire to kill her had fade slightly, but still remained in the recesses of his mind. She seemed gullible to the point of being trustworthy.

Silence settled on the meadow, and Vergil began to take notice of the surroundings. He hadn't really noticed it before in his demonic craze in which he had exited hell from. It was unnaturally quieted, and the size of that gate was undoubtedly the largest he had ever seen. It was unquestionably _his _work.

The thought of his former master sent a greater urge of murder from deep within him, for multiple reasons, not all related to himself. Looking back at the young girl, who shamefully was his new master, Vergil took a gamble.

His knowledge on name bounded bonds was very sound, so he knew what could and could not be done. She wasn't a spiritually or mentally strong girl, from the look at her, so he should be able to resist any lesser commands, but if she used his full name like she had just before, then he would have no choice but to submit.

Yet she _was_ gullible to the point of being trustworthy, all her actions till now showed that. If anything, he was moderately thankful that she had made the bond, if she hadn't the he would have continued running around like a wild beast until he got himself carelessly killed.

"Swear on your blood." He ordered, if this was to be his downfall, then it was of his own doings.

"What?" she questioned, naturally confused.

"Swear on your blood that you will give me back my name."

Green eyes narrowed. "You don't trust me?"

"No, this is simply my part of the deal."

"Then, what does it mean then, to swear on your blood?"

"Means that if you betray the deal, and go 'home' without having given back my name. I can kill you, command or no command on your behalf."

Her eyes widened, she was really beginning to realise the threat of death around this man. "O" she sounded dumbly. "Well, I guess it's no problem, since I do intent to. Do I have to cut myself, or something?" she questioned, the dislike of the idea showing clearly.

If there was such think as swearing on blood then probably, however since Vergil had made that up too, and knew that dangers of human blood in a demon infested forest, drawing blood now was a bad idea.

"No, just state your name and swear in your blood."

"Really?" she seemed relieved. "Ok, well. I Layla, swear on my blood that I'll give you back your name before you get me home." She paused, looking at him with a face that asked 'was that the kind of think you where looking for?' before she asked "Is that ok?"

She was gullible, pathetically so that Vergil had to resist the urge to scoff at the thought of whoever had raised this person.

He gave her another once over, eyes drifting over her inappropriate attire for the oncoming winter. He was unsure at what had possessed her to wear such clothing, other than the typical female desire to flaunt their body. Her loose hair looked in a worse state than his, knotted and now decorated with dead leaves.

Turning around briskly, he began to walk in the direction that felt the safest. "Let's go."

"So you agree!" she exclaimed joyfully, taking his words as acceptance to her proposal.

Vergil didn't reply, not feeling the need or desire to do so. This girl called Layla continued to talk none the less. "O this is so good. I was so worried that you wouldn't. But now all is good. Well, I suppose you already know, but I'm Layla."

"Vergil." He replied stoically.

"Nice to meet you Vergil." He could see her smiling out the corner of his eyes. What a stupid woman, to be so trusting just because of a few words. Believe that he wasn't going to kill her, which he wasn't. Aside from the fact that he couldn't, it wouldn't serve much to do so.

He could sense demon heading towards the south, there must have been some form of settlement in that direction. If he knew the area like he thought he did, there was also going to be one to the west.

That's where they would head. With any luck the demon hordes would have already been there and gone considering it was much closer.

"Where is home for you?" expecting her to have come from some local settlement, but her skin tone and appearance didn't appear to be from this local area.

"I don't, know for certain." She replied. "It's weird, none of this place seems familiar to me, I definitely wasn't here before…" she drifted off.

"Before what?"

She 'hummed and haaa'd' for a second before she replied. "Don't worry about it. It's doesn't make any sense anyway."

He wasn't worried about _it_, he just wanted to get her home so he could get his name back. If she was going to keep her word, that is. "What's the name of the city? Or country?" he continued his interrogation of her.

She told him. Sounded more like a species of bird than the name of a country and city, more importantly, it didn't sound familiar. "I don't know it." The thought of a quick journey dissolving.

"We could look on a map." She suggested.

"Do I look like I have a map?" he asked with a bored tone.

"We can find one" she didn't flinch from the sarcasm.

"You have money?" he asked, although, where they were going, he doubted they would need any form of currency.

"Umm, no not exactly." She had money, it was in a little coin purse in the zip pocket of her jacket, although, with what she had gathered so far, she doubted her currency would be valid here.

Silence settled, and Vergil didn't pick up a new conversation. Layla remained just a quiet, having quickly picked up that conversation with him was going to be difficult to maintain, considering the sarcastic and sullen nature of this man.

As they left the clearing, Layla took one last glance at the arch, still wondrous to what it was. Whispering a silent goodbye to the fated site, she wondered when the voice would resurface again. Having become quickly accustomed to it, it sudden disappearance unsettled her.

"What was that thing back there?" she asked Vergil, thinking for some reason that he might possibly know. "The arch." She elaborated him, the more details he received the more likely he would reply was he theory.

"A gate." He said from ahead of her.

Layla rushed to catch up, having been left behind during her ponderous walking. "A gate?" His answer making little sense to her. "To what?"

"The demon realm. Or Hell, as your people tend to call it."

Layla didn't reply, not certain whether he was being sarcastic or not, yet not particularly enthusiastic about continuing that line of conversation. "And what where you doing there?"

"We were let out from Hell."

"Wouldn't that mean you are dead?" she asked, her voice openly sceptical.

"Probably."

His answer frightened her, and dampened her hopes on returning hope quickly. It made little sense her being where she was, and all these new ideas and casual words that where being tossed around. What if he was dead, what did that mean the same for her? "Don't say that." she whispered to him, unknowing if he heard or not. "That would suggest that I'm dead too."


	4. Abandoned

**Disclaimer: I do not own DMC, nor any of the characters that belong to it.**

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Abandoned **

_I lost the world the other day._

_Has anyone found?_

_You'll know it by the row of stars_

_Around its Forehead bound_

_A rich man might not notice it;_

_Yet to my frugal eye _

_Of more esteem than ducats._

_Oh, find it, sir, for me! _(_XXXVI, _Emily Dickinson)

* * *

Not long after they had exited in a silence that mirrored the forests, the two quickly found what appeared to be the signs of civilisation. The sights of houses and tall buildings was welcoming to Layla who was beginning to wonder whether she would hear the voice of a friendly human being ever again.

Her hopes where crushed when they entered the town via a small road, passing numerous houses on their way. The tarmac ked roads where not worn to the point of disuse and the houses where fairly modern, suggesting that the town was active, or had been.

The silence of the ancient forest had followed them into the town.

Abandoned.

No sound was uttered from this town that suggested any form of life existed there.

"Where is everyone?" She spoke in a hushed voice, feeling if she was any louder, what had happened to the people of this town would happen to her. Again, she automatically assumed that he knew the answers.

"I assume they fled or were killed." His voice did not mimic hers in any way, and spoke as if there was nothing wrong with the deserted scene.

"Killed, by what?" she continued with her tone, that had turned into a slight hiss at Vergil's attitude.

"Demons." He said casually, saying the word that had been received by Layla's ears far too much these last few hours.

"You're the second person to tell me about demons, and I can't say that I believe in any more."

"Then you failure to recognise the danger will get you killed."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, it is only natural that the prey should know its predator. Basic survival instincts, where the stronger strives to live, and the weaker is eaten."

Having been a casual topic since she had met Vergil, the thought of being killed bothered Layla less and less, although being eaten. That was new.

They advanced deep into the town, coming across more houses and some abandoned vehicles. Broken glass surrounded a majority of the cars that they found haphazardly parked on the roads, and they even came across one that was on fire.

Layla gasped at the sight and skittered around the other side of Vergil, seeking a comfort that she knew he wouldn't supply unless ordered to.

Vergil stopped abruptly when they eventually came across a gas station, after telling her to wait outside, Vergil ventured inside and retuned within the space of five minutes, returning carrying something.

That something turned out to be a map, and he opened it out on the bonnet of a nearby abandoned car.

"This" he pointed to a section of the map, labelled _Skelterner, _"is where we are."

Layla took the map in, and tried to make sense of it. There was a varying landscape that ranged from forests to high altitude mountains, and looked like some countries that she knew of. Although none of the names of cities and towns, or even the country name itself where familiar to Layla.

Worrying as that was, it didn't dishearten her entirely. Layla had been surprised on many occasions when meeting new people, to find that they lived in places she had never heard about. One example was an island in the Caribbean. So there was still the possibility that she could find her way home.

"Since you have no idea as to where we are going." Vergil stated, almost sounding as if he was insulting her. "I suggest we head here" he pointed to another section of the map, a few centimetres away from where he had just been pointing to. "to get some information."

"Ok." Not having an idea of her own, she was willing to follow his. "But, how do you know that" she looked closely at the map to get the name of the place they were heading to "_Purgare_ isn't going to be the same as here?"

Vergil laughed the slightest bit at her question, knowing a few facts that she didn't that enforced his confidence in the safety of the city. "I know a man there."

Accepting his answer far too easily that she would have normally liked to, Layla didn't question him further.

Deeper into the town, Layla saw further the damage that had been done to the place, building where missing parts of their walls, roofs where on fire, rubble scattered the streets like confetti.

Nothing, could have prepared Layla for the bodies.

It was the blood that she saw first, dried brown patches that varied in size, not always so visible on the road.

Then the bodies began in piles.

Layla instinctively clung to the closest living being that provided protection from the sight. Vergil now had to bear with the tight, and strengthening, grip that Layla had on his arm as she hid behind his body. Shielding herself from the sickening sight of blood and bodies.

Eyes closed, Layla let Vergil be her guide thought this Hell on earth. She could have sniggered another time at the reference that gave her to a specific book, but she didn't feel into in. Her heart gave away to the dead.

"Whether you choose to accept their existence or not, they are here and responsible for all that has happened here." Vergil stopped, and gazed at the view that Layla could not dare to lay her eyes on. "They probably came in mass numbers, swarming the place, destroying everything in sight. Then left, as quickly as they came, to move onto more fertile grounds, leaving only the lowly demons. They are no more than scavengers, picking off the remainders that the more powerful demons left."

Layla swallowed heavily, she didn't think that Vergil would be willing to talk so much. The arm holding onto her guide was tugged and pulled her out from behind her shield and towards to deadly sight with wide eyes.

Strong hands held her in place, as she was opened to the scene.

"Take a look as the creatures that you deny existence. At the type of being that will hunt you over the course of your journey, look as the sight that will not be the worst you will see. Look at it all, and tell me now whether you believe or not."

Her body quivered like a leaf as she saw the black four legged creatures that scampered around the dead corpse, tearing off elastic shreds of flesh take into their little pink mouths. They had small beady oval eyes that where a horrible shade of yellow, and where spotted with red blotches along a scaly black skin.

"Scavenger demons, as I said, no better than vermin." Vergil spoke with disgust laying his voice. "Harmless, they eat only from the ones that are dead, or those that are lying down, wanting to be eaten."

He let go of her suddenly, and Layla was left standing, absorbing all she had seen and been told. The sights of bodies looking no different than what they were like on TV, but the crawling creatures that ate off them…

Her body frozen, she could only stare at them, taking them is as much as she could.

She could no longer deny it.

She's seen it, and somewhere inside of her she was beginning to suspect she knew it.

"Deee…dem…" it was difficult for her to say it, the forced acceptance having been jammed into her already fragile mind all too quickly. "Demons" she whispered to herself.

"Move it." Vergil called out to her, his voice loud and causing the demons to scatter and hide at the loud sound, leaving their precious food to find more and return when deemed safe.

Complying automatically, she followed after him.

As they began to walk out of the town, Vergil talked about finding suitable clothing for the both of them. They were apparently going got be walking a lot, he had asked her if she was fine with walking long distance. She had agreed numbly, not entirely listening.

Vergil broke into a house, kicking down a door flawlessly and entering as if it was his own place.

Layla followed, not really processing anything.

The house was warm, and pleasant to her extremely cold exposed skin. She didn't notice much of these details as Vergil urged her up the stairs, telling her to find clothing.

At some point probing her way towards a bedroom, Layla became slightly more aware of things.

She entered and began rooting around draws and the wardrobe, feeling as if she was breaking unspoken privacy rules as she ploughed through someone else's belongings. Clearly a girls rooms form the pictures and decorations.

She found a long pair of black thermal jogging tights. Layla removed her sandals and short to put them on, before pulling her shorts on again. Feeling warmth begin seep into her skin. Discarding her sandals and pulling out a pair of woolly sock and looked like hiking socks, Layla got the faint impression the owner of this room was of the outdoorsy type.

She found the hiking boots soon after, but was disappointed that they didn't fit her. Removing her blue jacket that had become dirty, and lilac coloured t-shirt, she pulled on a vest and a long sleeved white shirt that was a little small on her frame.

A larger black long sleeve fleece followed, before she put on a baggy grey jumper that hung freely below her waist.

Having everything she needed to be warm, Layla exited the room quickly, not wanting to stay much longer. She met Vergil on the landing, he was dressed in dark grey trekking trousers and boots, with a black fleece. The whole family was probably outdoorsy.

She noticed that he had showered, and that his drying hair was an unusual shade of snowy white, now that it was free of dirt and knots. She wondered how long she had been in the room, how much time had passed since they entered the house. Or since she woke up.

"Shoes wouldn't fit." Layla mumbled, lifelessly.

"Try the mothers. Then wait downstairs for me." He left, and she wandered into the parents room, feeling even more intrusive to this family's privacy.

Sitting on the bed, she tried on the mothers shoes. Too big for her feet, but for now they would do for now. Tying them tightly, she did as instructed and walked downstairs.

Standing aimlessly while she waited for Vergil, Layla's eyes wandered until they focused on the open door of the living room.

Like most families this one had a centring room that was the hub of all their social activities, somewhere where they could gather and enjoy together the simplicity of their company. Layla's own family was no different. Except for maybe the fact that her grandparent's house had two living rooms, that were used for such occasions.

One for the summer, when the light would stream in from the large windows and gently heat the medium sized room, and the other for the winter times when it was necessary for all to crowd around the fireplace in the smaller cosy room that would heat up quickly.

Fond memories of winters when the room would become so warm that Layla would have to kick off her slippers as she pulled her knees up onto the chair, finding the perfect spot to finish the chapter of her book in the silence of the room while listening to the endless ticking of the clock. Or the more special days when everyone would be in that room to share in the celebration of Christmas early in the morning when the windows where still clouded from the night, and the smell of the ashes of the fire that had died down long ago.

Seventeen times. It was seventeen times that Layla had spend such an occasion in that room. Surrounded by her small family in the equally small rooms. Standing in that room now, memories of those days began to flood her mind. Memories that where rich in the smell of burning wood, the feel of thick heat in the cold of winter, the sounds of chatter and laughter.

Seventeen Christmases spent in that room. Each one different from the other, each one signifying the ending of a year, all the hardships with it.

Seventeen.

In a numerical sense, it didn't seem much. Seventeen pebbled lines up on the floor isn't much. Seventeen dollars, pounds, cents, dimes, euros or any other form of currency wasn't much in the grander sense of the world. But seventeen years, filled with such memories and feelings, where unforgettable and had more worth to Layla that anything she could think off.

This room held the fractured memories of those feelings and thoughts. It was undisputable that this family had been just as happy as hers. Now, the room was empty of life or warmth. All familiar things having long fled this increasingly barren part of the world, either willingly or by force.

The thought brought unwanted tears to her eyes. They slowly drizzled down much like the way condensed water would down the glass pane. How sad a sight.

The tears had to leave quickly, there could be no sign of weakness in front of him. Any and she would be gone, abandoned to fight on her own. She needed him more than anything right now, and as much she feared him, she feared the creatures out there a lot more.

Face as empty as the room. She turned back to reality, glad that she was able to relive just a fraction of her old happiness in her silent solitude.

One last glance at the clock on the mantle pushed her legs to move for her towards it. Hands to aimlessly search behind it to hold a small key, same place her grandfather always hid it. Doing exactly what she had done many times before, she wound the clock up.

The start of the repetitive ticking filled the room with a familiar sound. The rapid tik tok tik tok annoying, yet unusually smoothing to her.

"Why do it?" he coolly asked from behind, having appeared like he always does.

She smiled at him gently. Wishing that he too had once experienced such days, and that his life wasn't as sad as she felt it was.

"Because time should never stop."

* * *

**AN: So I'm not going to have obvious reference to her real life, yes its a girl that has been thrown into the game, or just that world. But its going to be constantly just referred to, in like reminded and memories. Not mentioning definite facts, like where she is from, parents names... bla bla. I also didn't want to have the beginning of her in her normal life... you will find out later why I have chosen to do that.**


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